


Seven AM in the Golden Morning

by Path



Category: Homestuck, MSPA, Problem Sleuth - Fandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-11
Updated: 2012-11-11
Packaged: 2017-11-18 10:25:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/559990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Path/pseuds/Path
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's seven in the morning on a Sunday, and Problem Sleuth is awake. The sun is creeping through the window, and he's contemplating creeping out the door before Spades Slick wakes up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Seven AM in the Golden Morning

**Author's Note:**

> Trying to get back to my roots with these two.

It is seven in the morning on a Sunday, and Problem Sleuth is not asleep.

He is awake with perfect clarity, the heightened awareness that comes with guilt and worry. Once he used to sleep in, comfortable and confident in his job, his role in the play of life in Midnight City. No more.

He's awake now, as the sun begins to creep through the blinds and touch walls that he's never seen in daylight. He lies staring at the ceiling, also unfamiliar, and tries to decide whether it will be worse to stay or go. He spares a glance without fully turning his head, taking in the dark tousled head on the pillow beside him. Spades Slick is snoring aggressively; there's an almost inaudible whistle of air through pointed teeth.

Sleuth takes a deep breath and tries not to sigh too loudly as the enormity of it all hits him. What a hell of a betrayal. Well, he never did anything by halves, and if he was going to make a fool of himself with some lowlife, why not choose the worst of the worst? It couldn't have even been Snowman. At least the boys would have respected that. But no, he had to get drawn in by Spades Slick of all people, callous and criminal, savage and mannerless, leader of the Midnight Crew and angriest man in town. At least Snowman had some class.

And at least she was a dame. Sleuth stares, fixated, at Spades Slick's arm beside him, thrown thoughtlessly halfway across Sleuth's side of the bed. There's a handful of drawn scars slicing straight across his upper arm, shinier than the rest of his skin in the morning light. He didn't notice them last night, buzzed beyond judgement and trying to figure out if Slick was trying to court him or kill him. Sleuth stretches his shoulders back with an audible click, and prods his split lip with one finger. He still isn't sure.

There's no way he'll be able to live it down if it gets out, he thinks. How reputable is a detective who literally sleeps with the enemy? It's hard enough to make a living without resorting to the kind of shady tactics Midnight City was built on; all the worse trying to live out some double standard, one foot in the shadows, in the pocket of the man who made this whole corrupt city and made it dirty and cruel in his own image. He wouldn't be able to meet his own eyes when he shaved in the morning.

Spades Slick has shoulder blades like a pair of trusty knives, and they're sharp enough to cast shadows. Sleuth finds himself staring and pulls away to glare resolutely at the ceiling, kneading his knuckles into his jaw. It aches; most of the pain is residual. Some is anticipatory.

Not again. He's messed this up once already, messed up enough to turn teetotaller, given what he did under the influence. He doesn't need to be eyeing up Spades Slick and considering a second stupid mistake. He doesn't need that.

He has work to do. He has bills to pay. He has a team to keep together and a business to run. He has incredibly vivid mental images of Spades Slick practically throwing him across the bed and laying into him. He has a handful of foggy memories to take away, smudged with the fuzziness of last night's actions but keen-edged and cutting into him. He has to leave.

Spades Slick doesn't wake up, for all that the room is a luminescent gold as Problem Sleuth creeps out of it.


End file.
